


The Devil You Know

by my_heart_in_his_teeth



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Norse Religion & Lore, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fantasy, God of Mischief, Loki (Marvel) - Freeform, Loki (Norse Mythology) - Freeform, Loki - Freeform, Loki/OFC - Freeform, Marvel - Freeform, Original Female Character - Freeform, Pre-Thor (2011), Relationship Issues, Sassy, Silvertongue, antihero Loki, closure is good, fairy tale, lord chaos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 18:12:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17006643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_heart_in_his_teeth/pseuds/my_heart_in_his_teeth
Summary: "Tell me, who is this man would make you feel beneath him- you who has known the touch and favor of a god?”Lucky for Elaina, Loki keeps his word and nocturnal visits ensue.A follow up to "Mischief and the Maiden."





	1. These Dreams

**These Dreams**

 

The party droned on for what felt like days.

Her tolerance for this amount of people had peaked and fallen so long ago that she couldn’t even remember when she began feeling plastic, nodding and smiling her way through conversations she couldn’t care less about with people she barely knew. Every time she escaped from one cluster of people, she was shepherded into another.

She had gotten comfortable with being uncomfortable in crowds, but this one was wearing her thin. The men all a matching set in tailcoats and ties, slicked back hair and martinis while the women shimmered in sequined dresses, jewels sparkling off their arms and spilling down their necks in long strings- even glittering from the feather adornments in their bobbed hair.

She was suddenly very aware of how underdressed she was. Glancing down at her faded black lounge pants and thin t-shirt which was altered so that it was missing the sleeves and open at the sides, allowing a view of her lace bralette beneath it, she crossed her arms over her chest self-consciously and backed away, almost bumping into an enormous champagne fountain.

“Jesus!” She gasped, looking up at the towering monstrosity flowing the fizzy drink down from a giant bottle a couple of hundred glasses up. The opulence of the people mirrored the endless ballroom they were in; so much gold on the white clothed tables and the sconces, while giant crystal chandeliers twinkled from above. She felt like an extra in _The Great Gatsby._

Or _The Shining._

Honestly, she didn’t care which as long as she could find the exit to the place. She excused herself awkwardly, dodging protesting arms and walking with purpose toward the other side of the vast room where she hoped the door was. Finally, she spotted a large archway above the growing sea of people, but her relief was short lived when she saw another lavish hall beyond it.

Her frustration fueled her and she pushed on. At last she saw a great, gilded double door at the top of an impossibly grand staircase. She walked faster, no longer caring how frantic she looked. She would make her apologies to...whoever tomorrow. Why couldn’t she remember whose party this was? And why had she agreed to come? She could figure that out tomorrow as well, for now all she cared about was the freedom just a hundred stairs away.

A hand lightly touched her shoulder and she glanced behind her to see the gentle, smiling face of Patrick Stewart. Suddenly it hit her, it was HIS party. She couldn’t have said no to Patrick Stewart, of course. Seeing that he was wearing his Star Trek uniform made her regret her outfit even more.

“Elaina! “ He said in his lovely British voice. “I’m so happy you were able to come. You did bring the artifact of course. I thought we could pass it around while you give the eulogy.”

She hadn’t remembered any artifact and had somehow not realized she was meant to give a eulogy or even who it was for. “ I....” she stammered. “I just need to get it from my car. She lied. _She lied to PStew._ But she urgently needed to be outside. Being outside would surely clear her head.

“Excellent!” He held her hand. His skin was very soft. “I cannot wait to hear of how you acquired this one. It is simply fascinating to me how you have been able to find all of these wonderful treasures. You must truly have a gift”

“Oh, I’m just very lucky.” She clasped her hand over his and wished she could remember how their friendship came to be, but her brain seemed to be shrinking into confusion by the second and she could only hope that no one noticed.

She knew she had to pretend everything was fine until she could figure this out, but she hoped he would understand if she ended up running away into the night screaming instead of giving a speech she hadn’t prepared to a crowd of what had to be hundreds of people. “You’ll just have to excuse me, while I pop outside to get it...”

“Of course!” He beamed. “Ah, but first I would love to introduce you to some friends of mine.” He nodded over her shoulder and she turned to see Benedict Cumberbatch walking up to them, a meek Martin Freeman on his arm looking adoringly up at his face.

A brief, but fierce, battle waged inside her before she firmly but politely said no and excused herself again. If she delved into whatever _that_ was about, she knew she would never leave. She continued up the stairs that seemed to increase in number the closer she got to the top, running now, she pushed herself faster until finally she pushed the heavy door open and bolted outside, not stopping until she got to the street.

The cool night air felt good on her skin and now she focused on getting home. She didn’t remember if she’d brought her car. Wait...that’s right, she didn’t even OWN a car. Ahead, she saw a bus stop. Good enough. After sitting on the bench for a second, she realized that she had no clue where she was. Was it New York? It felt too foreign. She traveled so often now it was hard to keep up. Hopefully the bus driver could help her.

As soon as she had that thought she saw headlights in the distance. They were moving strangely, instead of steady and straight they sort of hopped. The reason for that was revealed when the thing came into view. It was a Catbus. It’s eyes were the headlights and when it stopped, the orange furry doors opened to reveal the soft seats inside of its body.

Elaina hesitated and the cat’s Cheshire smiling face turned towards her. She knew her Ghibli and that this bus could take her anywhere, but she thought better of it. “Uh, that’s okay. Nevermind. ” She told it. “I think I'll walk.” The Catbus meowed indifferently and continued on its way.

“Well now that,” A velvet voice spoke from beside her. “Was truly...special.”

She looked up at the figure that had stepped into view beside her. Pale and perfect with dark hair combed back and curling up slightly just above his shoulders. His eyebrows were raised toward the direction of the Catbus.

“I know someone who travels by cat- albeit in a comparatively mundane fashion.... ” He trailed off, then turned to her with a warm smile that reached his eyes and crinkled them at the corners. “Hello, Elaina.”

“Loki.” She said softly. Recognition was like a balm for her troubled head, soothing her back to her senses and lifting her heart in an instant.

She wanted to ask him if he was really there and not just another part of her yearning, stress- drunk subconscious, but she’d asked him that often enough over the years to know that he would never give her a straight answer. Even if he did, she could never really believe it.

“You know,” her own smile spread across her face. “When you said I’d dream about you, I thought the dreams would be more....”

“Enjoyable?” He turned to the grim, gray, building she’d just fled. It had not a single window and was so tall that the top of it disappeared into the night clouds. “But, come now.” He waved his hand toward it and the city street they stood on and shook his head. “You know this is not _me_.”

“No.” She sighed. “This is the sort of thing my asshole brain comes up with.”

“Well then, let’s slip into someplace a bit more comfortable.”

With that he took her by the shoulders and spun her around to face a couple of matching red, plush couches divided by a black lacquered coffee table inlaid with mother of pearl garden scene. A beautiful Persian rug sat on top of the hardwood floors of the seating area and photographs in various sized frames tastefully covered deep blue walls, dimly lit by the lights that ran along the ceiling.

 _I guess it doesn’t get much more comfortable than my own house,_ she thought. She had taken care to fill her home with things that had a story or meaning that was in some way personal to her so that whenever she returned to it after a long journey she would be wrapped in the stable familiarity of it all. Her home was very much her sanctuary.

“This wasn’t here before.” Loki was peering at the Klimt painting above the fireplace. “Who are these people?

'

It was an unusual sight- he clad in a black high collared shirt, open at the neck in the shape of a V and over that a strange sort of jacket made of interwoven black leather and green cloth that reached down to his boots. Though not wearing a crown, he still looked every bit a mythological prince standing so casually in her in her living room.

“Umm, well I’m not sure actually.” She wondered if it had registered to him that it had been two years since he was last here. “It was painted about a hundred years before I was born. The image has very much has resonated with me lately. I even have this weird connection to the artist.”

“I see. And what “weird” connection do you have to a presumably dead artist?”

“Oh, I found an old portfolio of his sketches hidden in the pages of this coffee big table art book that my grandmother had.” She studied his profile carefully as she spoke looking for any reaction. “I mean, they were stamped with his signature and everything. It was a nearly impossible find, but quickly authenticated. “

His lips twitched upwards and he kept his eyes on the painting. “Hmm. How lucky.”

“Uh-huh. I’ve come into quite a bit of such “luck” over the last few years. ...since meeting you actually.” She added pointedly. “You know, I’ll buy a doll at a flea market in France that will turn out to be an antique Bisque or I’ll find a used book from a tiny shop in Italy that ends being a first edition Yeats- things like that.”

“Those things sound like they are probably very valuable to Midgardians.” He shrugged. “One should hope you were able to find some use for them.””

She clasped her hands in front of her and smiled knowingly at the floor. “And to think some guys just buy a girl flowers.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. This painting,” he said, changing the subject. “What about it so captured your attention, I wonder?”

“Well, it’s called ’Love’- did...did you just roll your eyes?”

His mouth smoothed out of its grin quickly. “Not at all.”

 

Each time he’d come to her, no matter how much time had passed, there wasn’t the awkwardness that often happens when lovers meet again. No pretending to be indifferent to their own feelings, no worrying how they might seem to each other or wondering where things might go this time. Everything seemed just as it had been that first night together, in a cabin that wasn’t really a cabin in a realm far, far away. For her part, she had no delusions about what may come of the time they spent together, she was just glad for it.

She paused to contemplate the couple frozen in the painting, forever locked in an embrace that would outlive them. The woman’s hand gripped at the man, her head upturned, eyes closed in anticipation of a kiss that would never come. Or perhaps the kiss was done and the embrace was at its end.

The man’s eyes were closed as well, but she thought he had a melancholy look to him. It seemed he could either be coming or going from her. There seemed to be a silent battle raging within each of them while a host of spirits looked on, perhaps amused at their fate.

“Does she love him?” He asked, circling behind her.

“Yes, that I’m certain of.”

“And do you think that wise?” His mouth was at her ear.

Without hesitation she answered. “No.”

His hand wrapped over hers and he led her to one of the couches, pulling her down into his lap as he sat. She could smell the leather of his clothes and beneath that the familiar heady scent of his skin. “Correct.” His fingers traced down her jawline stopping at her chin. “Sentimentality often leads to foolish choices.”

His eyes rested on her lips thoughtfully for a moment before he deftly took her face in his hands and kissed her, his mouth cool on hers. Her eyes fluttered shut and her hand wrapped around the nape of his neck, fingers disappearing into the softness of his hair.

For a blissful moment there was nothing else in the world but that kiss, then he gently pulled back, gazing at her with contented green eyes. “You have been in love, Elaina.” His elbow folded on the back of the couch, his curled fist providing a rest for his head. “I needn’t warn you of that gnawing thing within your heart that has you so vexed.”

She felt her cheeks redden. It didn’t surprise her that he knew of her life, she sometimes comforted herself with the idea that he was maybe looking in at her from his castle in a magical floating city, but other times she rather hoped he wasn’t. Like the last year.

“We don’t get to choose about falling in love. It just happens.” She could hear the regret in her own voice and hated it. “At least that’s how it is for we Midgardians.”

“It’s all about control, my dear.” His hand rested on her hip. “There’s always something you can control even within the uncontrollable. If you feel an overpowering emotion, you can channel that power into something more...beneficial.”

“Such as?”

“Anything. A more personal passion. Art. Music. Jogging? Is that what it’s called? When you run pointlessly long and slow to get to nowhere? The point is that you can bask in the pleasurable aspect of the feeling, but assign the power of the chaos such a strong emotion creates to something else.” He reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “That way your mind can remain clear and no one _unworthy_ will have power over you.”

She clasped his hand against her cheek and closed her eyes. There had been a man she had loved who was everything she wasn’t. Gregarious, charming, and successful, he just always seemed to have it together with never a hair out of place. Even his condo was constantly immaculate. He also was painfully gorgeous. And he actually loved her. Until he inexplicably didn’t.

She winced at the memory.

“I think you over- estimate my worth.” She said quietly.

He clicked his tongue and looked almost offended. “I do no such thing.” He said sharply. “You would do well to remember that. Tell me, who is this man would make you feel beneath him- you who has known the touch and favor of _a god?_ ”

“I don’t-I know I’m not _beneath_ him...” she was flustered and now embarrassed. Having been the lover of the God of Mischief was one hell of a confidence boost, but she was never going to have the conceit that might have earned her. She doubted Loki could understand what it was like to be set aside by someone you cherished, to have to question what about you had made them decide you were not what they wanted.

“Perhaps,” he half smiled and traced his fingers over the patterns of lace on the sides of her bralette “You need a reminder.”

She held her breath, remembering every bit of what his masterful touch could do to her. There was a playful spark in his eyes for a just a moment before he kissed her again, this time firmly but briefly, then brought her hand to his lips and planted a kiss there as well.

“Soon.” He said with a wink and before she could question what he meant his face had dissolved into an unpleasant glow of light.

 

~~~


	2. In The Flesh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...who is this man would make you feel beneath him..."

 

 

Sunlight assaulted her eyes as she blinked them open. She was still on her couch, but alone. She kicked her blanket to the ground as she rolled to the floor to throw the curtains closed. Reality swirled back to her as sleep fell away.  

She had gone to a charity gala last night. She hated that sort of thing, but she had obligated herself months ago. She came home late and fell asleep in the living room, as she often did lately.  

Her bed felt too empty. 

From the arm of the couch, Byron mewed and she ran her hand down the fur of his back. What a frustrating dream! She immediately began to question if it had really been Loki. But it had to have been, her subconscious version of him would’ve been less about words and more about reliving old passions. 

It had been five years since she had been stolen away to Asgard and since her eventual return, he had come to her three other times. Those dreams felt different. They felt  _solid_. As did he. 

She couldn’t shake the feeling now that his presence still lingered. She looked longingly at the space in front of the painting where he’d stood and wondered what his definition of “soon” could be. 

There was a knock at the door and without thinking she rushed towards it, noting the grandfather clock in the hall telling her it was somehow already noon. Without even checking the peephole, she flung open the door hoping beyond all logical sense that it could be him deciding to use a normal human entryway for once. 

Greeting her instead was James. 

“Woah.” He said leaning back dramatically and raising his hand. “I have not gotten a look of disappointment that intense since I came out to my Nana on her birthday.” 

He technically worked for her in that she paid him to clean her house and occasionally run her errands, but they’d become fast friends and now he practically lived at her place. “Sorry,” she exhaled the breath she just realized she’d been holding. “I thought you were someone else.” 

“Really?” He said with way too much interest. “I wonder. Who. That Could. Be.” His spikey bleach blonde hair was contrasted against the black sunglasses that sat on his head.  His mouth was a slightly smug little smirk.  Glancing down she noticed a red bunch of roses against his fitted plum colored shirt. 

Before she could ask, he pulled out the still sealed card. “Do we need to open it or do we already know?”  She snatched the card and he followed her inside to the kitchen as she pried open the small envelope.  

“Argh!” She yelled and shook the card in his face.  

 _I’m was thinking about you today,_  it read.  _I hope the dinner went well, I know you hate going to those things alone. -Matt_ _hew_  

“No!” His mouth dropped. “Are you kidding?” He went from shock to suspicion in the same second. “What did you  _do?_!” 

“Nothing! I haven’t heard from him in months.” She put her hands on her head and sat down heavily on a stool. “We bought our tickets to the gala when were still together. Thankfully he didn’t show up. I think part of me must’ve been dreading the idea.’ 

“Well, I’m throwing these out.” James said and moved to toss the flowers in the bin. 

“No, it’s not the flowers’ fault. You keep them.” She sighed. “Give them to your What’s His Name.” 

James went through boyfriends like some people binged television shows and she could not keep up with them. Nor could he. He pursed his lips for a second before shrugging. “Yeah, my What’s His Name would appreciate them. He doesn’t have to know they were bought by Patrick fucking Bateman.” 

“Stop calling him that.” She laughed. 

“The shoe fits- minus the serial killing  _that we know of._ That hot, well dressed Sir tried to gaslight you while he was having an affair and I am not going to respect him enough to use his real name.” 

“We don’t know that he was having an affair.” She pretty much knew he was having an affair. “But thank you.” 

Ultimately, her relationship with Matt had been confusing and hurtful but of course it hadn’t started out that way. Though they lived a few hours apart, they were together every weekend and even took several vacations together. He was wonderfully charming and seemed utterly enchanted. He doted on her. After a few months he started talking about moving in together as crazy as it seemed, she considered it. But here is when the cracks started to show.  

He had a great place in the city, but it wasn’t really big enough for two people- unless she didn’t bring many of her cherished things. Or her cat. It turned out that was what he expected the living together would entail- her and her alone, moving into  _his_ place. Not the two of them making a home together. The risk was all hers, not his, if things didn’t work out because only her life would have been uprooted by it. 

When she was reluctant, he brushed off the whole idea. Money wasn’t an issue for either one of them thanks to his success as an attorney and her unstoppable good fortune, so why not keep things as they were? There was no hurry after all.  

But he very slowly, almost imperceivably, changed. He wasn’t exactly  _controlling_ , but it was as though he was attempting to reign her in by ceasing to participate in her interests outside of him. Movies, theatre, art galleries- all things they’d always done together he just didn’t want to do anymore. Instead he insisted they stay in together. His constant desire for alone time with her was sort of sweet. At first.  

He never presented it this way, but he was making her choose between the things she enjoyed doing and spending time with him, giving her a quiet ultimatum every week.  He still went out with his friends often and the fact that his newly found love of reclusion extended only to his time with her left her unsettled. 

 It was almost like he was compartmentalizing his relationships with people which is something people might do for various reasons, she supposed. Like if they were leading a double life, for example. 

When she would talk to him about this, he said he just wanted to make the most of their time together. He seemed hurt that she didn’t understand that, making her feel paranoid and selfish. She so very much wanted this to work, she loved him and truly felt that he felt the same way and that’s why he wanted to keep her to himself. 

 It was fortunate then, that this was when the phone calls began. At all hours his cell would ring. He said it was work, but once he answered a call in bed that had woken her up and before he shuffled out of the room, she very distinctly heard a woman’s voice on the other end and this was far outside of business hours.  

Her heart broke to realize that she didn’t trust him, and that realization was really the end of it. She never accused him of anything outright, but he didn’t put up too much of a fight when she said that it was over. He just got rather quiet. And coldly distant.  

She had told James all of this as it was happening thankfully, because by the time she’d gotten home afterwards, she had half convinced herself that she had only imagined that he had ever been serious at all in the first place. Perhaps, she just needed to be in love with someone and randomly decided that he was the one. Maybe he was only interested in having a casual relationship from the start and she had become clingy without realizing it. But that didn’t sound like her... 

“No. Stop.” James had said when she vented these thoughts to him over a couple of bottles of wine. “You got love bombed.” 

“Love bombed?” 

“When a guy comes on super strong until you’re a smitten kitten and then seems to punish you when you don’t do what he wants, it’s a little trick called ‘love bombing’ and it’s the weapon of choice for narcissists like our Patrick Bateman.” 

“Eh. I don’t know. He didn’t seem like a narcissist. I think he just wasn’t that into me after all.” 

“SERIOUSLY.” He topped of their glasses. “I know what I’m talking about- I've got my degree in  _Dr. Phil._  Now drink up, we’re going out!”  

Going out was somehow the solution to most life crises and it worked surprisingly well, at least temporarily. Tonight she declined his offer to dance her troubles away. She wanted to stay close to home, just in case. 

  _In case what?_  

She knew better than to plan her life around a guy, even if that guy was the God of Mischief, but he left things rather open ended. Besides, hearing from Matt again after never really having any closure with him had put her in a weird headspace. 

The weather was finally starting to turn towards Autumn and the wind had a sharp coldness to it as the sun went down, the darkness bringing with it steady peals of rain. She loved this sort of night.  

She wore a velvet dressing gown over a long, diaphanous nightdress. From past experience she knew that she would pay better attention to what she wore to bed for a couple of months at least before gradually reverting back to comfort wear. She turned the fire on and curled up on her favorite couch with Byron and an old book, not even noticing when she drifted off until she was startled awake. 

She lay there for a second after her eyes popped open, trying to determine what she had heard, for she knew she must’ve heard something- her body was tense with the feeling that something wasn’t right. 

The footsteps were leisurely and coming from behind the couch, walking around to where her head was and just as her mind leapt toward the idea that Loki had returned, the very real and not dream version of Matt sat down on the opposite couch with his hands folded on his lap. 

“Hey.” His full mouth was set a tight smile, a dark tumble of curls fell to his ears and just over one of his equally dark eyes. He pushed the errant curl back, his thick black brows never raising. He had a few days of stubble, something that unfairly made him even more attractive. Normally. 

She sat up and looked around the fire-lit room. Nothing else was out of place, just him.  He looked so eerily casual as he sat across from her as though the wrongness of his being here like this hadn’t even occurred to him. 

 “Hey?” She sat up slowly.  “So, I guess I never asked for my key back, but I thought you’d understand not to use it again.” 

He looked down at his hands. His coat was still wet from the rain. “Did you get the flowers?” He asked quietly 

“Yes. I did.” A slow panic was being born in the pit of her stomach. “Why are you here?” 

 “This is going to be awkward and I’m... sorry.” He exhaled loudly. “But I need a favor. I need money.” 

“What?” She shook her head and nearly laughed. “You don’t need money. You make six figures a year.” 

“I know, I know. Look,” he stood up abruptly and began to pace. “The truth is I’ve been gambling. A lot. For a long time.” 

“Ohhh-  _a gambling problem!_ ” The words came out more relived sounding than she had meant them to, but this was a sort of validating, eureka moment. 

He narrowed his eyes at her quizzically “Yeah so, usually it all works out, but lately it hasn’t and now I owe some people money that I don’t have and... ” He sat down next to her and looked at her with a certain of matter -of -factness. “You do.” 

“Look, I’m sorry for your troubles, but I haven’t even heard from you in five months.” Shock of the situation had waned and was eclipsed by all sorts of other feelings that were fighting for dominance. “Why on Earth would you think I would just give you money?” 

“Because you donated tens of thousands of dollars to PBS. And because you’ve given much more than that to women’s shelters, animal shelters, and who knows what else. You just throw money at things like it’s nothing.” 

 His demeaner was as familiar as it was unnerving. There was nothing here of the man she first knew in the whirlwind of their courtship, the one she had hoped would return one day. No, left in his place was the man she had left. The distant and detached one. The emotionally manipulative one. 

“And because,” he continued.  “I swear, you can pick up a rock and have it be worth a fortune, because it’ll turn out not to be just a rock, it’ll be an ancient religious artifact or fucking meteor, or William Shakespear’s pet rock, or....some other impossible, valuable  thing.  Even before I met you, there was talk on the auction circuit of the Midas Girl. I don’t know what your secret is, but you definitely have one.” The lightbulb clicked and she met his eyes.  

“Is that  _why_  you met me?” She asked coldly.   

He tilted his head apathetically. “Do you remember when we were in the countryside in Prague and you bought some junky bits of jewelry from a cart as a souvenir? You left the ring at my place and I had it looked at. Not only is it real gold, but it’s a Viking era finger ring valued at about fifteen thousand dollars! That’s insane.” 

That was answer enough for her. “Oh my god! I am too stupid to live.” She said to the fire, standing to get away from him. He quickly rose with his hands raised seemingly ready to defend himself if she decided to strike him or to stop her if she tried to leave. 

 “Now, I know this seems bad, but I do really care about you. That ring, and probably a bunch of the stuff you have here are technically artifacts and would legally belong back in Europe, but there’s a market and with my connection, I can move items without getting caught-” 

“I don’t want to “move items” what are you even talking about?” She was too angry to be heartbroken over being used and too stunned to think straight. “I donate most of my money to causes I support because, like my grandma used to say, ‘You can’t take it with you when you go’ but _you_ are not a cause I support, and I’m not your piggy bank. Just leave, and let’s pretend this,  _all_  of this, never happened.”  

He shook his head. “I can’t do that, hon,” Gods she hated when he called her that, but there was something especially sinister about the sound of it now. “I’ve already made a deal with this guy and, look, it’s not like you’re not going to benefit from these sales as well. I’ve still got the ring, but I was thinking you could give a couple of other things for me to pass along and we’ll ...see where this goes.” 

Her mouth hung open as she stared at him. Who was this person? But she already knew. This was who he’d really been all along, his mask was completely off now. She had never known this level of betrayal before and it hurt. It really hurt. But more than that, it pissed her off.  

“No.” She said and folded her arms. “Not happening. This is the last time I’m asking you nicely to leave.” 

“Hon. Don't make this hard.” On his face sat a hollow smile, but it was his cold predatory eyes that turned her veins to ice. The gravity of the situation had ebbed its way into her and she was suddenly hyper aware that if she turned away from him, he would grab her. It was a surreal thing to realize about this total stranger she’d loved; but she knew he would grab her and then...what? Her mind wasn’t ready to go there. 

She thought there was a good chance that she could defuse the situation by going along with what he wanted, or pretending to until she could safely get away from him. She thought that, but as she looked at him and felt how small he was trying to make her feel, her rational fear shrank away. 

.. _.who is this man would make you feel beneath him..._  

“Oh, fuck you, Patrick Bateman.” And with that she jumped back, pivoting and sprinting toward the front door.  

He was tall and athletic and much stronger than she was, so she knew he was going to catch her in a moment. But a moment was all she needed to swipe a fist sized goddess statue from a shelf behind her, turn, and chuck it at his beautiful face. 

He ducked his head and the statue instead struck the painting behind him, making a hole where the woman’s face had been. When he turned to her, his expression was unchanged, and that completely terrified her. She had just enough time to regret that she had never been great at planning impulsively before he caught her by her hair as she turned to run.  

“Have it your way.”  He said, his voice disturbingly calm. 

She fell back on the rug with her hands raised up behind her to attempt to pry herself free from his grasp, but there was nothing there.

She sat batting the back of her hair for a few seconds before she spun around to see him gone and the room silent but for the rain falling against her window. 

She didn’t move. What was he playing at now?  

“Well, I can certainly see why you fancied him.”   

From the shadows on the other side of the room, stepped Loki. He wasn’t wearing his usual Asgardian finery, but a sleek black suit and the sight of him standing in her living room unnerved her in a completely different way than seeing Matt there had.  

It wasn’t because he looked like he had just stepped out of the pages of GQ, but because she knew without a doubt that she was wide awake.

 

~~~


	3. Fleeting As A Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " ....I would not wish to toy with you. Not in that particular way.."

3.

“Loki?” She stood up shakily. “Where...where did he go?” 

She flitted her gaze around the room, then a terrible thought occurred to her. She closed her eyes and tried to shake it out of her head. “Oh, please,  _please_  tell me that you aren’t him. Loki.? Tell me you haven’t been Matt this whole time.”

 _“Matt”_  the word slithered disdainfully from his lips. “Is that not a thing used to wipe one’s feet on?” He winked and tossed a cane from one hand to the other. “No my dear, though I appreciate how well you know my nature, I would not wish to toy with you. Not in that particular way.”

Her adrenaline heightened senses and throbbing of her scalp confirmed that she hadn’t been hallucinating what just happened. She cautiously crossed the room to where Loki was, then lightly poked him in the chest. “Just checking,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Satisfied?” He asked with some amusement,

 “But then what did you do with him? Did you...?” She swallowed hard, unable to ask if he had killed him, afraid of her own reaction if he said yes.

“Well, the man is rather in between places at the moment.”  He raised her chin with his fingers. “As he is your lover, perhaps you should decide his fate. What would you have me do?”

“ _Ex_  -lover, but you already know that.” She turned from him and gazed up at the damaged painting. “I assume you must’ve been watching him before coming here. Did you know right away what he was, or do you not have sociopaths in Asgard?”

“He is a _trickster_ , Elaina. Tricksters can be dangerous or benign. I was curious which you had chosen. When I saw this man’s mind, I knew the sort you were consorting with. I wanted you to know it too.”

“The guy that was here tonight isn’t who I chose.”” She reached up to the torn canvas and folded the tear up so the woman’s face was whole for a second before letting it fall back away. “I fell for an illusion. But he was behind me. We were done. What was your part in his coming here tonight?”

“Oh, I merely offered him a bargain, but the thought of manipulating you through whatever means had already occurred to him. He just needed the right idea.”

“Which you provided.” She felt drained as she spoke. 

“He was going to harm you eventually. My influence wasn’t going to change that.” He looked down. “There is a reason no one associates wealth with morality. I could tell you of how he made most of his fortune. The things he’s done. You would not have been the first of his victims. I only made certain you would see the beast in him clearly when he came, but he was always going to come.”

Elaina shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself. “And is that the only reason you came here? To save me?  I thought you weren’t supposed to be jumping through portals to meddle with Earth Folk.”

“I only meddle where my interests are concerned.” Warm hands were on her shoulders, moving lightly down her arms.  “And my interests are precious to me.”

She fought the urge to fall into him, letting his soothing arms wrap around her. She knew what pleasurable ends giving into her desires would lead to, but the jolt of tonight’s events made the yearnings of her mind too loud for her to ignore

"I’m only as interesting as your meddling has made me.” She turned to face him. “Why do you keep at it? I’m grateful for it. And for you. But why do you take the time to intervene in my life, when all the rest of Earth seems beneath you?”

His eyes went distant for a moment before returning to their amused sparkle. “Heh- why do you sit in the glow of those screens and watch the lives of others. Why do you read fictions? I am The God of Mischief and a Wielder of Chaos. I am Son of Odin and a Prince of Asgard. Perhaps sometimes I just like to...’unwind’.”

"So, I’m like how you choose to waste your time?” She considered being offended this, but there were worse things than being the plaything of a god- especially one that had treated her well and that cared enough to rescue her from her own apparent bad judgement when needed. 

“I do not waste anything of myself, least of all my time.” He licked his lips. “And when I am with you, it is because above all else, I choose to be.” 

His hand slid behind her neck as he brought his lips down to meet hers and she embraced him, warmed by his words. The slowness of his kiss was deliberate, as though he were savoring her taste and she allowed herself to become lost in it, and him. 

He eased back and took her hands in his “Come.”  He led her down the hall to the staircase, stopping to kiss her again while sweeping her up in his arms and ascending the stairs. He was still kissing her when they got to her bedroom 

 She had little doubt that at some point in its existence, her Tudor-era carved mahogany bed she’d gotten from England had rested Kings and their mistresses beneath its canopy. She thought of this as she watched Loki slowly remove his jacket and undo his tie before vanishing the rest of the costume away with a shimmer of magic, all the while keeping his eyes fixed on her.

His body hovered over hers, his tongue revisiting the mounds of her breasts as he lowered her back down. He was always one to take his time where it mattered, eventually dragging his mouth up her neck and his hand up her thigh. Her head rolled back as he easily slipped his fingers into her, her mouth moaning his name as they worked her depths, stroking and twisting with precision. 

One of her hands ran through his hair, the other caressed its way down his pale torso relishing the feel of taught skin over muscle until she found the smooth hard length of him that caused his breath to hiss out when she grasped her fingers around it, gliding up the shaft and over the moistened tip a few times before guiding it to her entrance. His fingers withdrew and gripped her hip, not pausing as he slid himself fully inside.

Her thighs tightened as release found her with his first thrusts. He rested his forehead on hers, holding his breath until she began to unclamp her nails from his shoulder blades and her mouth made an eager trail along his throat until she again found his lips and rolled her hips up to meet his.

Then he began his steady pace. His slow, careful movements drove her to a frenzied peak time and time again. Each time he patiently rode out the shuddered gasps and little shrieks of pleasure before starting again. He seemed to be making a mental catalog of her every touch, taste, and sound; his hands and mouth not missing a thing.

Finally, he allowed his own climax to overtake him. His thrusts quickened until a startled sounding groan escaped him, his body tensed several moments before coming to rest on his forearms. He kissed her lips once more and then her head as he rolled to her side.

The only sounds now were their breaths and the occasional gust of rain against the glass balcony doors. Her head rested on his shoulder. Though she couldn’t see his face, she felt his distance in the way he absentmindedly traced his fingers along the fine bones of the back of her hand. She knew that his thoughts were his own and no matter how intimately he knew her, she could never hope to know this ancient being so well.

When she raised her head to see his face, he blinked back to himself with a tired smile.  “Where did you go just now?” 

“I am here.” He squeezed her hand slightly. “But I am also other places less pleasant. I am never still. It comes with the mantle of my very being.”

“God stuff.” She shrugged. “I get it. And how long do I have you for this time before those other places take precedent?”

“Not long I’m afraid.”

This did not surprise her, but she let herself have a 5 second fantasy about him waking up with her and conjuring breakfast in bed, then spending the day there as she introduced him to Netflix and Chill.

“However, there is still the matter of that man.” He said, snapping her out of her reverie. “I have my own ideas on the matter, but what would you like done with him?”

She had actually managed to put the horrible start to her night far out of her mind. Glancing at Loki’s long, perfect body reclining so beautifully next to her, she figured that was completely forgivable. She rather hoped that her creep of an ex was in some oubliette somewhere in space and would stay gone forever but that probably wasn’t realistic. Was it? 

“Well, I don’t want him killed or anything. But I also don’t want him ever coming near me again of course. Or harming anyone else in the future. So, what are my options here?”

“Death _is_  a simple solution to both of those requests.” he raised his eyebrows at her. “But I predicted your sentimentality would forbid it. Not to worry, I’ve already put into motion a series of events that will guarantee his imprisonment here on Midgard. Even if he ever finds freedom again, he would not think to come looking for you.”

“Thank you.” She sighed. “I guess I’ll have to do background checks for any future romantic entanglements.”

“I could grant you power you know.” He said slyly as he rolled to his side. “Would you like the ability to turn useless things like this Matt into something like a harmless tree? Plenty of uses for him then. Or you could have the power to enchant anyone you wished. You could raise armies and conquer the world. You could be Queen.”

“You’re joking.” She hoped.

One side of his lips curved upward. “Only partly. I like knowing you are safe and I have...’god stuff’ that keeps me from guaranteeing that from where I am.”

“Good god no!” The very idea of having the responsibility of power made her instantly anxious. She didn’t even like the responsibility of driving a car.

His fingers danced on the side of her waist. “So I’m a good god, am I?” 

“You’re definitely the best one I know.” She smiled. “And you’re the only magic I can handle in my life.”

“Hmm.” He considered her for a moment his green eyes searching her face, though she couldn’t guess what he was looking to find. “If my lady Elaina wishes to keep herself as she is than I certainly will not complain.”

“You probably don’t have to worry about me. I think t the chances of finding myself in that particular sort of danger again are pretty slim. I mean, statistically I don’t think girls like me end up in a relationship with an actual psychopath more than once. I’m sure the first one ends up making sure of that one way or another...”

“Ah, statistics. It’s probably also likely nothing extraordinary happens to ‘girls like you’ as well.” Smirked the nude Norse god from her bed.

“Point taken.”

“I jest.” He kissed her hand and rubbed her fingers. “Oh, I’d almost forgotten,” In his hand the Viking ring appeared. “I thought you’d like this returned to you.” He set the golden braided circle in her palm and closed her hand around it. 

“Thank you.” She was relieved, as soon as she’d learned its history, she immediately thought of its possible significance. Anything Norse, she would obviously associate with Loki, but she hadn’t suspected the ring’s origins, so she supposed that was one thing to thank Matt for.

“I usually keep better track of these things.” She said a little sheepishly. “I can’t believe I left this.”

“That was by his design” He said. “It was hidden it in hopes its absence would be overlooked.”

“That fuc-” she pursed her lips and shook her head. “Nope, no point in being angry at a snake for being a snake.”

“Very true.” He said gently.

She slid her head back down against his chest and he held her body closer to his. She didn’t want to talk about it anymore. She wanted to focus on his being there and not the reasons for it. 

The warmth of him and the feel of his embrace felt so safe and pleasant that she could not remember ever feeling so blissful, so full of hope. It seemed like anything was possible and that the future was limitless. She just knew that feeling would remain after he was gone. The comfortable silence was soothing and she began to feel the wear of the adrenaline-filled day upon her body as he stroked her hair.

 “Loki?” She asked sleepily. “Will you still be here when I wake up?”

The was a slight break in the rhythm of his breath as her answer. She curled up tighter against him before succumbing to slumber.


	4. The Road to Ruin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A gift from a god.

  


The English countryside was unseasonably warm for this time of year, which meant that while it was still freezing, it was at least not snowing yet. The ground had been crisp with frost when she’d woken up this morning. Fortunately for as old as her rented cottage looked, it was well insulated and the fire had kept her so cozy that she stole an extra couple of hours of sleep.

However, she was now wide awake at midnight. Not that she had any place to be in the morning- that was the point of a vacation. Though she wasn’t certain she could call what she was doing a vacation anymore. She hadn’t been home in more than three months and she could only hope that James wouldn’t tire of house sitting. 

Byron was stretched long on the floor in front of the fire, where he’d spent most of his time since arriving two days ago, a black puddle of fur and contentment. At least cats don’t have jet lag- or maybe they always had jet-lag, which would explain a lot. Getting him over to the UK was a bit of a pain but worth it. She wasn’t sure when she would be going back to the States and she didn’t want to leave her oldest friend behind. 

She wandered over to the tall row of crosshatched windows overlooking the garden with a glass of wine in hand. The red reflection of her flannel pajamas moved along the diamond pattern as she walked by. The garden must be beautiful in the summer, but currently it was carpeted with dead leaves and the large stone urns that dotted along the evergreen hedge stood empty. 

The moon was impressively bright tonight and she thought how peaceful it would be to sit under it while she drank her Bordeaux and enjoyed the quiet solitude before she attempted to get some sleep. Remembering how bitter cold the wrought iron patio furniture was, she slipped on her thick robe and slid her feet into the boots she’d discarded by the door after hiking earlier before popping out the back door.

A thousand stars greeted her, twinkling in the cloudless sky with varying brightness. She loved the country at night. A white light blazed across the sky and she tried to call up a wish but she was interrupted when something moved across her legs. Byron. She must’ve forgotten to close the door tightly.

She called to him with the clicking sound he usually responded to, but he ran to the other end of the garden wall, and hopped onto the stone fence. He looked back at her, twitching his tale defiantly. “Byron,” she scolded. “Don’t you dare.”

He responded by immediately hopping down to the other side. She cursed and hastily set her glass on the bench, running towards the gate and swinging it open. He was there on the path that led to the lake, just far enough away that she couldn’t reach him, watching her with golden eyes. She called him again and he turned and trotted further away. “You’re going to get yourself eaten by something.” She told him.

The moon must be making him crazy, she thought. He wasn’t exactly the most adventurous beast these days now here he was diving into fox country without a care and he annoyingly maintained his distance, just out of her reach, until they’d reached old wooden pier that stretched onto lake. He chose then to run.

She started to run after him, relieved that he had cornered himself, but then she stopped. There was no cat ahead of her, but a man. Or rather, a deity. She recognized him instantly though he faced away from her. It might have been the cape.

The water was still as a mirror. He did not give any indication that he noticed her as she approached, his eyes remained set on the moon’s massive reflection on the lake’s surface. He was dressed in what she would guess was more formally than she had ever seen. More metal then usual adorned his shoulders and chest. And then there was the cape; dark and heavy, flowing to his feet.

“Well, _one_  of us is having a very vivid dream.” She announced as she stood at his side.

“Are they?” Loki was stroking Byron, who was draped across the length of his forearm, like a villain in a Bond movie. “This seems real enough.”

“True. And I don’t remember falling asleep. But no one is trying to kill me tonight, so to what would I owe the pleasure of your actual company? Just in the neighborhood?”

“My kingdom is a bit too busy for my liking at the moment, preparing for a coronation.” The way he pinched that last word told her that the coronation wasn’t his. “I’m laying other plans for my own amusement as a distraction.” He looked down at her and smiled. “But since I was visiting other realms, I thought I’d steal a moment to visit yours.”

“Ah, so in other words, ‘yes’.” Maybe it was the wine that she had most definitely really drank at some point this evening, but she had the urge to ask him about what plans he spoke of, or any of the details about his life really, but she swallowed it down. She didn’t want to pry, which was ridiculous considering that he not only knew her whole life, but he had walked through her subconscious several times now. 

The thought of having reached the point where the Norse god of Mischief was just casually swinging by from a whole other world was a little impressive. “That’s my cat, by the way.” 

He drew a slender finger under Byron’s chin and rubbed it there, Byron lifted his head and purred appreciatively. “Oh, this feline and I have an agreement and he does a bit of my bidding now and then. Off you go.” He told him, and the cat leapt down and obediently headed back up the path.

“Well at least he listens to someone. Surely you don’t need him to spy on me.” Though remembering what he hinted at their last encounter, maybe he did. It seemed from his words that things were changing for the Prince of Asgard.

“Tsk, of course not.”  His alabaster skin looked bluish in the moonlight and the shadows carved the hollows of his cheeks deeper, giving an almost supernatural look to his devilishly handsome face. “Why would I deny myself that enjoyment?”

“Why did you have my apparently treacherous cat lead me to the lake instead of popping inside?” She asked.

“Too confining. And it is quite beautiful here is it not?”

It was. Snow was falling now, glinting like a million specks of falling stars around them. What a perfect painting this would make, she thought; the two of them with the moon on the black water and in sky, and the silver bits drifting down around them. And her flannel pajamas she just remembered she wearing.

“But if you prefer ...” 

With a flash she found herself to be in large room with smooth stone walls, a crackling fire and a large, and if she remembered correctly, very comfortable, bed. Her eyes lingered on that bed.  Loki’s hidden sanctuary in the forests of Asgard hadn’t changed at all. “So I am dreaming after all.” 

“Hmm.” He chuckled. “In a way. Your body rests on Midgard, safely guarded, but your mind is here with me. It’s easier to keep to familiar settings when meeting like this. And this place reminds me of you when I think of it. You are the only person I’ve ever brought here, you know.” 

“No, I didn’t.” This was as close to sentimental as she had ever thought him to be and she didn’t know how to take it. “But thank you for trusting me to not run and tell all my friends.”

There was just a hint of a smile on his lips as he brushed her hair back from her shoulders and eyed her up and down. “Let’s remedy this as well.”

She felt something soft envelope her and looked down to see that she was wearing a long crème colored nightdress. The semi- sheer material felt smoother than silk against her skin.

 “Now, that’s better.” 

She loved the way his eyes lit up with a playful spark when he was up to something and the way they creased at the corners when his smile was genuine. He took her hand and led her to one of the soft, throne- like chairs near the fire. She sat and took in how much had changed since the first time she’d sat here and was introduced to the God of Mischief.

He sat across from her and stretched his legs out on a footstool, two fingers of one hand on his temple and the thumb on his chin as he regarded her thoughtfully. “I’ve wondered,” he said. “what you must want out of life, Elaina. I know better than to ask because something I’ve learned about Midgardians is that they so often do not realize what they want, what they  _truly_  want. You even have a saying about being careful what you wish for, do you not?”

“Yes?” Elaina answered hesitantly, curious but cautious about where this was going.

“You enjoy a certain freedom, that I’ve seen. You enjoy knowledge, which is admirable. But you have a love of  _stories_ that I think is what has shaped who you are and are what you love most of all.”

“Well...yes. I suppose you’re right. Stories last longer than most things and they’ll never stop being created and there’s a certain comfort in that.”

He smiled then and a book appeared in front of her, large and leather wrapped with a golden latch, it was suspended in the air at eye level until she reached out and took it. A current of energy moved through her as she pulled it to her and her eyes raised to Loki.

“A gift.” He said.. He had never directly given her anything before. “A book of endless stories.”

“Oh, like a Kindle.” She mused.

 He cocked his head. “You think I jest?”

“No. I think you are giving me a Kindle. The Asgardian version. And I love it.” She beamed as she stroked her fingers over the plain brown binding and slid open the latch. It was actually very sweet for him to give her such a thing. To get to read the lore of other realms that no other human has ever seen was an appeal to her book nerd heart.  She opened it and it flipped through the thick white pages. It was completely blank.

Loki stretched cat-like off his chair and sat on the footstool at her knees. “I think you should create some of your own stories.”

“Oh.” She never thought of herself as a writer, though she supposed she did have enough to write about at this point in her increasingly strange life. She thought it better, if she had to choose, to live a life worth writing about than to be able to write about lives far more interesting than her own.

“Try it.” Loki handed her a pen. An ordinary black bic. She flicked clicked the top a couple of times as he watched, his broad hand rubbing just above her knee. “Start small. Write of something you would like to happen right now.”

 _No pressure or anything,_  she thought, then smiled as an idea popped into her head. She began to put it down, her handwriting dancing neatly across the perfect page until the thought was ended with a period.

Loki was grinning at her wolfishly when she clicked the pen closed and it didn’t take long to see why; he wore nothing but the firelight that danced on his smooth skin, just like she had playfully written moments before. On the page and the words were glowing gold and green as they sank into the page and disappeared.

“The fuck?” She asked poetically as realization rolled into her head too slowly. 

“Whatever you write in this book, will shape what happens.” Loki closed it and knelt before her. “But the word’s reach is not infinite and works best when applied to yourself or those closest to you. For example, if you are sick, you can write yourself well; that is a self- contained desire. But if you were to write that you become queen of the world, a crown would not appear on your head, but after a fashion, a king might find his way to your door. Or not.”

“I said I didn’t want powers.” Though she had to admit that she’d enjoyed the feel of the book in her hands and the flare of...well, of  _mischief_ she’d felt watching those words eaten by the page.

“Ah, but this is not power that changes you. It is not tied to you. It’s completely bound within this book which you could pack it away or leave it to gather dust as another keepsake on your shelves if you wish but, “he looked down at his fingers that were absent-mindedly making circle patterns on the bare skin of her leg. “If there something were to happen...”

“In case of emergency: Open Book.”  It wasn’t a bad idea really. And she doubted she would ever use it to change her fortune more than he already had, but if James got hit by a car tomorrow and she could use the book to heal him, surely that would be a worth having it for.

She brushed the top of his hand with her fingers and met his eyes as he lifted them to her. “Thank you.” She told him and rested her hand on his with a gentle squeeze.

Without another word, he tossed the book to the footstool and his hands moved up under her dress to her hips as he kissed his way up her thighs., stopping just before reaching her center, which was just starting to stir.

He raised up on his forearms and kissed her mouth, sweeping his tongue inside as he took her face in his hands, lightly nibbling her lower lip as he pulled away. She looked down at the ridges of his muscled torso and wrapped her arms around his neck as he pulled her weight to him, sliding his arm behind her knees and scooping her up. 

He carried her to the bed and then, kneeling between her legs, he looked at her with a wicked smirk. “Now, I need your help with something, Elaina” her name sounded like silk falling from his mouth. “I would be remiss if I didn’t make sure you were fully  _capable_  of using a gift of magic. I think that you should have a touch more practice using it tonight. Just to ease my mind, of course”

Before she could question what he meant, there was a soft flash of light and the book and pen were by her hand. She looked to it and then to Loki, naked and waiting. 

His tongue wet his lips, one brow raised and  a knavish twinkle in his eyes as his rasped out a single word. 

_“Write._ **_”_ **

**Author's Note:**

> VALIDATE MEEEEEE!!!!
> 
> *ahem*
> 
> (Kudos and comments are encouraging to writers, so please feel free to leave some!)


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